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Cadillac Records is like one of those concerts you attend where numerous acts are on the bill, each limited to short sets.

Some you love, some you like, others you can barely stand. You may leave satisfied, but it's likely you'll wish you could have had more of your faves.

Chances are you'll feel the same way about this film, which vividly recounts the history of Chicago's influential Chess Records in all but name, although the people portrayed – Muddy Waters, Howlin' Wolf, Chuck Berry, Etta James, Little Walter, Willie Dixon and label chief Leonard Chess – all go by their real names.

Writer/director Darnell Martin, a helmer for TV's Law & Order, tells all of these stories over a timeline that spans from the early 1940s to the late 1960s. She also drops the needle on such momentous trends as the black R & B crossover to the white pop charts.

It's a lot of ground to cover in a single movie.

It begins in 1941, when black music was dismissively called "race records," but Chicago entrepreneur Chess (Adrien Brody) is only interested in making money: "It was just the colour of the bills that mattered."

Wright delivers a strong impression of Waters and his dogged determination to keep singing the blues while the world spins to rock 'n' roll. His early hit "I Can't Be Satisfied" rings true on several levels, including his home life with unhappy wife Geneva Wade (Gabrielle Union).

All of these people are deserving of their own films, and with these very actors playing them. The entire cast is great – and most also do the songs associated with their roles – but three are worthy of special note.

As the star-crossed Berry, whose signature guitar riffs influenced both The Beatles and The Stones even as his personal fortunes waned, Mos Def seizes the man's vitality and vitriol.

Beyoncé doesn't show up as Etta James until well into the movie, but she floods the frame with the distilled pain of an R & B singer, known for her 1961 hit "At Last," whose intimate relations with both Chess and a heroin needle caused her no end of trouble.

The mercurial Little Walter, the only harmonica player inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame, is reborn through Columbus Short's impassioned rendering, which gives us a glimpse into the sky rocket that was Walter's short life.

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